T

Timebomb

Stop now
What’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop now
What’s that sound

Stop now
What’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop now
What’s that sound

I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb
I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb

Unattended on the railway station
In the litter at the dancehall
Sitting pretty near the fastfood-counter
In the backseat of a Vauxhall

I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb
I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb

Stop now
What’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop now
What’s that sound

I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb
I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb

Hear the ticking of your heartbeat beating
Hear the breaking of their promises
Hear the smashing of your expectations
Hear the shattering of half-rhymes

I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb
I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb

Stop now
What’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop now
What’s that sound

You know
Time tells you
Ah-ah-ah-ah

And all the timebombs
They’re all dancing to the same song
In a world full of no ones
I am a someone
Timebomb
Timebomb
Timebomb
Timebomb

Stop now
What’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop now
What’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop now
What’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop now
What’s that sound
London Bridge is falling down

That Same So-So Tune

(spoken)

«Bang, the little drummer takes a solo, reaching his young hands all over traps and kettles and cymbals and foot-peddle
BOOM in a fantastic crash of sound – but what will happen?»

The dance halls are dark now
The ballrooms are closed
No wax for my needle and I don’t suppose
You’ll be swinging by anytime soon
Singing that same so-so tune
Nobody’s playing
No-one’s been paid
The music’s all stopped and
You never said you could
Wait from September to June
Singing that same so-so tune
While brothers are fighting and working to rule
Here’s a tired, sentimental old song
It goes: ‘Ooh, baby, baby
Treating me wrong’
We’ll be back where we belong before long
(It’s the beat of the heart)
(It’s the beat of the heart)
(It’s the beat of the heart)
(It’s the beat of the heart)
(It’s the beat of the heart)

While brothers are fighting and working to rule
Here’s a tired, sentimental old song
It goes: ‘Ooh, baby, baby
Treating me wrong’
We’ll be back where we belong before long
I’ve heard all the stories
It’s wild and it’s new
Hot sounds in the city
But what can I do?
Might as well shoot for the moon
Singing that same so-so tune
Singing that same so-so tune

The Candidates Find Common Ground

Full employment, slave labor, and schemes
An unemployed workforce, the capitalist’s dream
But lets keep Britain working—either way we must keep Britain working
Conventional weapons to kill people nicely
Nuclear weapons to keep the peace
But weapons definitely—either way we must defend ourselves
Nationalization, with one big boss
No, privatization, with lots of little bosses
But someone in control, of course, either way there must be someone giving orders
(Chorus)
A toast to democracy
The prison guard of this society
Sides in the voting game
Disappear into the same machine
The same machine
A toast
To US bases and nuclear weapons
To stopping pickets pulling down fences
To the British troops in Northern Ireland
To the wonderful victory in the Falklands
To the plastic bullet and the riot police
To the UDM, to the TUC
To isolating gays and to law and to order
To richer bosses, to poorer workers
(Repeat chorus)
To longer hours and to less pay
To the courts for those who get in our way
To the beating of people who step out of line
To the use of troops to break a strike
To the expulsion of extremists and political witch hunts
To repatriation, to benefit cuts
To peaceful settlements, and to no strike agreements
To authority, to power, to governments
One, two, three
To the annual rise in the MP’s wage
To vested interests, to privilege
To the party who wins the next election
By definition a victory to capitalism

The Cutty Wren

Oh where are you going? said Milder to Moulder
Oh we may not tell you! said Festel to Fose
We’re off to the wood! said John the Red Nose
We’re off to the wood! said John the Red Nose
And what will you do there? said Milder to Moulder
Oh we may not tell you! said Festel to Fose
We’ll shoot the cutty wren! said John the Red Nose
We’ll shoot the cutty wren! said John the Red Nose
Oh how will you cut him up? said Milder to Moulder

Oh we may not tell you! said Festel to Fose
With knives and with forks! said John the Red Nose
With knives and with forks! said John the Red Nose
And who´ll get the spare ribs? said Milder to Moulder
Oh we may not tell you! said Festel to Fose
We’ll give them all to the poor! said John the Red Nose
We’ll give them all to the poor! said John the Red Nose

The Devil’s Interval

If you should walk out in the morning
To fetch your water from the well
Good people please beware
Little children do take care
Watch out for the devil’s interval

When strumming through the woods in springtime
When evening blackbirds coo and caw
Such sounds of joy and sadness
May hide the prince of darkness
Beware the devil’s interval
Beware the devil’s interval

The kettle whistlin’ in the kitchen
The chiming clock that’s in the hall
Should they sound e flat to a
Then lucifer is on his way
Here comes the devil’s interval
Here comes the devil’s interval

Don’t take your loved one to the dance hall
Lest music drag you down to hell
Pay no mind to songs like these
For I may be Mephistopheles
Singing the devil’s interval
Singing the devil’s interval

Aaahaa…Aahaa…Aahaa…Aaah [x3]

The Song Collector

The Folk Society meet on Thursday nights
Clear their throats and put their coughs to flight
To sing the dusty cobwebs from the room
A repertoire both in and out of tune
Don’t assume a singalong, or worse
This history in song and countless verse
Pays homage to the man who, long ago
Collected all the songs the singers know
Collected all the songs the singers know

Edward Alexander, man of action
Armed only with his reel-to-reel contraption
One hundred years ago in mac and boots
Set out to faithfully preserve the region’s roots
And every night in some small village inn
Fortified with fortitude and gin
Mr Alexander, for a shilling
Would thus record your song, if you were willing
Would thus record your song, if you were willing

So word got round, and soon there formed a queue
And the line of willing singers grew and grew
Brass for oohs and aahs? You can’t go wrong
When there’s someone paying a shilling for a song
When all his tapes are filled up, Edward leaves
There’s a history preserved, so he believes
But all the so-called singers back inside
They know they took a city scholar for a ride
They know they took a city scholar for a ride

For they shook the man for every coin he’d got
With words and tunes all made up on the spot
Invented tales not twenty minutes old
So history, like ale, is bought and sold.
The old contraption’s packed away and boxed
And a century is marked upon the clock
So tradition holds that Edward’s great collection
Is honoured with a weekly resurrection
Honoured with a weekly resurrection

And now the old Society sing the songs
Word for word, and kept where they belong
As once again, they eulogise the past
You can hear the ghosts of history laughing last
You can hear the ghosts of history laughing last

The Wasteland

Said the party to the ad-man
We’ll conjure up a gimmick
The way to lead an ass
Is with a carrot and a stick
Dig down for minorities
Promise them concessions
Ride in on their backs
And then teach them all a lesson
Unemployment means depression
You’re just victims of the recession
We can count on their support
If we can channel their emotions
(Chorus)
Populate the wasteland
Between leisure and the grave
Work and pray and place your vote
And some day you’ll be saved
All these myths come tailor-made
To suit the company director
Myths that praise the dignity
Of cheap, disposable labor
Two different routes
To an industrial heaven
Work for boss and parliament
And all will be forgiven
It’s the fear of being sacked
That lets the boss step up the pace
Because the minute you step out of line
There’s someone took your place
(Repeat chorus)
Said the MP to the media
Can’t we juggle this around
Sprinkle sugar on the dog shit
And we’ll keep the figures down
Never let the left hand
See what’s in the right
No-one’s any wiser
And the problem’s out of sight
Take your democratic choice
Take a scheme or starve
Job clubs, restart, YTS, CPs, EAS
Company profits doubled
Wages chopped in half
(Repeat)
(Repeat chorus)
Offer your life to the one true church
In the name of the conservative party
The labor party
And the liberal alliance
The promised land where banks outnumber churches
And your cars shall be martyrs to the cause
Capitalism in crisis
But on the third day it shall rise again
But on the third day it shall rise

This Girl

This girl, she didn’t turn out quite the way she was supposed to do
This girl, she got bored of all the things they brought her up to say
She never meant them anyway
This girl, she got caught out on the multi-storey car park
Throwing goodbye notes wrapped up in bricks
When they put her in the car she said, ‘Jesus made me do it’
But all the priests in all the world couldn’t save this girl
This girl, content with all the bloody noses, scabby knees
You get from fighting wars like these,
Running past the tidy houses pulling faces
This material world couldn’t tempt this girl

(Chorus)
Now she entertains the world and all its mates
But she doesn’t fit in
And everybody thinks this girl is great
But she’s lacing all the party drinks with venom from a poison pen

This girl, she made a habit of habitually lying
Does everybody’s head in
She knows what happens when the next stop that you see
It’s not the one that everyone expected it to be
This girl, happy families ’round the supermarket check-out
She loves to be the odd one out
The party girl who stayed upstairs
Playing musical chairs
La-la, la-la-la
She doesn’t care this girl.
(Repeat chorus)
This girl, she didn’t turn out quite the way she was supposed to do

Today’s Sermon

And now, the reverand Abraham Meakley- saver of souls
Though they broke my legs, they gave me a crutch to walk
Though they broke my legs, they gave me a crutch to walk
Though they broke my legs, they gave me a crutch to walk
Though they broke my legs, they gave me a crutch to walk
«Brothers and sisters, I have seen more than sinning. I have been away these
last 4 long years, but now I have returned to the fold, to be among my flock. I
come as humble shepard embodied by the almighty, the power above, the power
which is in me. Cos I am reborn brothers and sisters. I am living proof that
government saves!
Brothers and sisters, I want us to show our faith in the powers that be. For we
are the true belivers. I want us to come together, come to me and let us feel
the power of the cross. Todays lesson- stay in your homes exept on Thursdays,
do not stray from the path, it’s well sign posted, you cant miss it really and
were open all day.
Now theres no need to rush. Weve got plenty of pencils for everyone. Now
there’re collecting tins for your donation. Cheque, credit card facilities
availible. «Government Saves!» stickers and badges on sale. T-shirts in small,
mediem and large, all at competative prices!
Put a down payment on your place in heaven and buy me another 4 years brothers
and sisters. Dance dance wherever you may be I am the lord of the dance said
he. And if you dont dance we have ways of making you dance. Government be with
you!»
Amen.

Torturing James Hetfield

Well, we got James Hetfield
And we tied him up tight
Naked and cold
We kept the strip lights bright
Said what have you got for us James
He said nothing at all
So we dragged some speakers
In from the hall

James James James
Just give us names names names
James James James

Well, we tried every tune in the songbook
To loosen his tongue
We played Simply Red nonstop
He just swayed along
Then we had an idea
A new plan of attack
Thought that even a deaf man
Would bend and crack

James James James
Just give us names names names
James James James

Now look what we’ve brought for you James
Your favorite disc
It’s Chumbawamba
Their greatest hits (There’s only one)
Turned up the volume
You should’ve heard him sing (Oh how he sings)
He cried like a baby
And told us everything (it was Lars!)

James James James
Just give us names names names
James James James

Tubthumping

Truth is
I thought it mattered
I thought that music mattered
But does it bullocks
Not compared to how people matter

We’ll be singing
When we’re winning
We’ll be singing

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down

Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away

He drinks a whiskey drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times

«Oh, Danny Boy
Danny Boy
Danny Boy»

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down

Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away

He drinks a whiskey drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times

«Don’t cry for me
Next door neighbor»

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)
But I get up again
You’re never going to keep me down
(When we’re winning)
I get knocked down
(We’ll be singing)
But I get up again
You’re never going to keep me down